Façade
by Summer-Psychosis
Summary: As it turns out, a façade is just a façade, as a mask is just a mask. And like a mask, a façade is removed for certain situations. -New Year's Eve drabble-


**Façade**

_oneshot_

**Author's Note:** Just another drabble I wrote for the occasion. Sorry it's so short…I'm really busy with my joint-project right now. Happy New Year, everyone!

**Pairing:** USxUK

**Rating: **K+

* * *

To the jaded, the whole world is a place too dark to trust. They fear what an unkind hand will do to them after a beating. When love has gone, they see only that face, and in turn hurt those who try to help them. If someone reaches out to open their hearts, they draw away. Hiding behind an angry façade is, perhaps, one way to cover their pain. They hurt others this way. As it turns out, a façade is just a façade, as a mask is just a mask.

And like a mask, a façade is removed for certain situations.

Arthur removes this mask around this time. The New Year brings about new feelings and new hopes. Hope, he knows, is something bittersweet when they don't fall through. He puts his head down on a pillow and stares, just stares up at the blank white canvas above his bed. His ceiling is boring, he figures, like him.

New Year's Eve is the one day where he doesn't celebrate with his people. He doesn't celebrate by watching the fireworks go off on the London Eye, and he certainly doesn't burn his Christmas tree. Arthur spends his New Year's Eve at home, on his bed, just thinking; he spends New Year's Day in the same way. This year will be no different.

As he settles down on his bed, shutting out the world with closed eyes, he hears the doorbell ring, thoughts running through his mind, 'why why why why _why?_ Who would bother me today?' He knows it is not Francis—Francis knows better than to bother him on this day, from experience.

He hops from his bed at a leisurely pace and runs to his front door, flinging it open while the doorbell is rung continuously. Alfred stood outside his door, grinning as he normally does. Arthur would be lying if he said he wasn't happy to see that smile. "What do you want, America?" he snaps.

"I came to celebrate with you, Arthur!" Alfred lets himself in. He pushes past Arthur and sits down on a chair in his living room, frowning at the barren room. "You really haven't decorated much…"

"Why should I decorate my house to welcome in the New Year?" Arthur scowls.

"Why not?"

Arthur sighs, "I'm not going to decorate my house. Now will you please quit bothering me so I may get back to my evening?"

Alfred turns on the television, turning it straight to the channel where he gets his own news. Arthur remembers requesting this channel specifically for Alfred – and, secretly, so that he may keep tabs on his former colony. The channel covers the dropping of the Times Square Ball in New York City. People crowd themselves in Times Square, wearing the most ridiculous things: fuzzy hats and big glasses in all the colors of the rainbow. "What's your evening consist of? Staring up at your ceiling and trying not to think?"

His face reddens and his fists tighten. Alfred had guessed correctly. Unsure of what to say, Arthur turns away angrily. "It's none of your business how I spend my evenings!"

"Why are you always so difficult, Arthur?" Alfred sighs behind him.

Again, Arthur is speechless. What should he tell him? That he hates the New Year celebrations because it reminds him of another lonely year? He can never tell a soul that. "I don't know." The only answer he can think of. It is a disappointing answer, but he must come up with _something_.

"I think you do." Alfred stands behind him now. Arthur startles, turning quickly.

"Alfred, what the hell?! Don't scare me like that!" He clutches at his chest, where his heart beats wildly.

"Sorry," Alfred grins, though he doesn't quite sound apologetic. "Do you really want me to leave you alone?"

He thinks, and when he does this, he removes his mask. With a small smile, he replies, "no. I don't."

On the television, the countdown begins.

_10!_

"You know, you're supposed to kiss someone on New Year's…"

_9!_

"Alfred, that's for the people you love."

_8!_

"And…?" Alfred' expression is serious.

_7!_

"Alfred," Arthur draws his brows nearly together. "Don't joke around about things like that!"

_6!_

"I'm not kidding!"

_5!_

"You're…!" Arthur gasps as he's pulled against Alfred's chest. He places his hands near the slightly taller man's collar bone, staring back at him with wide eyes.

_4!_

"So how about it," Alfred murmurs, arms locked around Arthur's waist.

_3!_

"I…I don't know," Arthur closes his eyes, huffs a little, and smiles. "If it makes you happy."

_2!_

"It will." Alfred grins, leaning in close, until the only thing Arthur can hear is his rhythmic breathing, the steady beat of his heart; until he can smell Alfred's cologne and feel the breath coming in and out of Alfred's nostrils; until the only thing he's aware of is how much he wants to taste Alfred's mouth, so close, taunting him endlessly…

_1!_

His lips connect with Alfred's in a sweet kiss, back tilted at a slight angle as Alfred leans over him slightly. Arthur cannot even hear the television blaring the noisy crowd's excitement as the ball drops and the fireworks light, people shouting, "_Happy New Year!_"

Many minutes pass before Alfred tugs him up and against his chest again, smiling at him. "Happy New Year, Arthur."

"Happy New Year, Alfred." Arthur laughs quietly.

This New Year, Arthur made a resolution to smile more often. He would find, over the years that the New Year would be a reminder of another year with Alfred.


End file.
